


The Devil in the Fine Lines

by TrickCheebs



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Gen, a introspective from canon, henry has a bad time in the ink and everything goes to shit, this was made round chapter 3 so sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 14:49:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20027602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickCheebs/pseuds/TrickCheebs
Summary: so before everyone from tumblr thinks ive been under a rock, this was made waaay back when chapter 3 was released and everyone went insane with theories and shit about where the story was goinglike a few i went into the more darker aspects and figured "hey henrys likely going to be put through hell and back, lets explore that some"and no i did not steal this off of tumblr, im the writer there too, im just cross posting bc tumblr might purge shit randomly on me and this site has its shit together





	The Devil in the Fine Lines

If he ever found where in this godforsaken building Joey was hiding away in, Henry would ask a few dozen questions before socking him in the jaw for dragging him into this mess. The first and foremost being what made any of this a remotely good idea?? This was supposed to be a animating studio not some satanic ritualistic cult for pete’s sake! The second question would be where did Joey get the means to make so much ink? Half the studio was soaked in it, and most of the ceilings were line with massive pipes pumping it from who knows where..He heard a few of them burst now and again, one occasion right above him and getting him soaked through.

If he didn’t regret coming here by now and finding out his old stomping grounds had devolved into such outrageous nonsense, he sure did now after being covered five times over with ink. His entire being was now a mucky black, Henry wishing more than anything to find a working bathroom with water to try and scrub himself clean of it all…But sadly the only thing freely flowing down here was ink.

Nothing in this place made any bit of sense anymore..Henry didn’t recognize any of the twisting hallways he trudged through, only a few scant traces of the old studio life lay hidden away for him to stumble upon. Henry wished there was something to tell him where he even was anymore..how deep did the studio even go now? It felt like he had been working his way down steadily for hours now while trying to find something of a exit. But every doorway he had passed lately led to a dead end, leaving him trudging along down the dim hallway he now found himself in towards who knows where.

His brief train of thought was interrupted by soft noise coming from the doorway up ahead. He couldn’t quite place it but..it sounded like a slow churning? Like the sea on a particularly choppy day, the dull light emanating from the same location only made the noise sound all the more foreboding. A sane man would turn around and steer clear of whatever laid beyond that doorway….But Henry already knew what sort of man he was, he was here after all wasn’t he? Axe raised protectively he trudged onward to see what awaited him…

The dim atmosphere that seemed prevalent through most of his journey had nothing on what he was greeted with..The new area was massive certainly, dauntingly so compared to the tight confining hallways he had grown used to by now. It was as if Joey, or whoever was in charge of remodeling had ripped apart two whole floors to make one singular gigantic space. And only a few dingy lights gave any idea to what was in here, the brightest being a dull red light on the far end of the room opposite where Henry stood. But that wasn’t what made Henry take pause..

The majority of the room held what Henry could only see as a outright massive holding tank of ink. Lining the tank were several man sized pipes, leading possibly to and from the other parts of the studio he figured. Well that answered one burning question he had on just where it all came from..But now the question of how to get across came to mind. Swimming was a outright no, something about the red lit ink sent warning signals off in Henry’s mind. A few minutes of scouring the area, he spotted a rather rickety looking catwalk that lead to the other side of the room. Upon reaching the catwalk, Henry let out a worried huff when he saw the state it was in. Rusting to hell and back and almost laughably thin, it was a miracle he thought that anyone used this when it was brand new..But there were no other alternatives that he could see, he’d just have to go slow and pray it didn’t break under him.

It was agonizingly slow going as Henry inched himself carefully across the catwalk. Every groan and protest that sounded out from the weary metal made him freeze, fearing the next few seconds would send him falling into the sea of ink only a few scant feet below. Henry kept his focus solely on the catwalk and nothing else, the way the ink burbled and shone in the ruddy light made it feel like something was watching him just beneath the surface..And for all he knew in this hellish place there probably was. He could only hope the far off doorway would lead to a exit and finally get him out of this mess once and for all..

By the time Henry had made it to the supposed halfway mark he decided to take a brief break, being this tense was doing a number on him both mentally and physically honestly. The red light above the far door looked all the more promising to him the closer he got..It looked like a emergency exit, something Henry could definitely use after his adventures here in the studio. He hadn’t seen Joey at all so far, and after nearly dying to cultists and ink demons he couldn’t care less by now. The only thing Henry wanted was a hot shower and a stiff drink to hopefully forget this entire debacle ever happening. Unfortunately Henry would be getting neither any time soon.

As Henry shifted his weight to continue his slow going for the door, something gave at last. Henry didn’t consider himself out of shape per say, but feeling his so called sturdy footing buckle and cave in, he honestly wished he were light enough to float on air..Letting out a strangled cry of alarm, hands shot out desperately to grab something, anything at all to keep himself from plunging headlong into the inky abyss below. But no such luck was to be found, the one bar he managed to get a firm grip on came off with him with a loud snap. The ceiling being the last thing he saw before taking the plunge into the unknown depths below.

It was warm, oh gods above why was it all so warm? Henry screwed his eyes shut the moment he hit, feeling himself sink deeply into all, it felt wrong, it felt thick and warm…nothing like ink should feel like at all. What made it worse was that he only felt himself sink deeper with each passing second. No amount of flailing seemed to propel him towards the surface, it was almost like he was being dragged down…He needed to think of something and fast, his lungs were beginning to burn, and frankly getting a lung full of ink was the last thing he wanted. Fighting desperately he managed to breach the surface long enough to get a glorious deep lungful of air, before something dragged him back under.

Struggling all the more to get free, Henry was becoming alarmingly aware of what might be in this soupy mess with him..A steady, massive pressure was being exerted on one of his legs, holding him steady and preventing him from going back towards the surface. It didn’t feel like those ink blobs he had run into countless times before now..no, whatever was in here was much bigger and was now toying with him. Henry’s heartbeat thundered in his ears as panic slowly threatened to set in the longer he was down here..Whatever the thing was…it had a sick sense of humor, letting Henry surface just when he thought he’d black out and get a breath of fresh air..only to drag him back under again once more. Was he hallucinating from this hellish treatment..or was he hearing whispers in the ink depths the more he was held under?

Nonsensical murmurs whispered softly into his head with every pull of the thing lurking under the surface..Henry didn’t dare open his eyes, afraid if he’d see anything..or simply blind himself like a idiot and make himself more open to attack by whatever was holding him. It scared poor Henry to think the sensations on his leg felt like a hand..a hand that massive would only mean something in the tank was the size of a giant and currently batting him about like some lazy cat with a new toy. Feeling the grip slacken enough once more to let him get a breath of fresh air, Henry swung a arm up blindly to grasp at anything. His fingers connected with something cold and metal, making him latch on weakly. it had to be the catwalk, if he could pull himself out he could possibly run the last few dozen feet for that damned door.

Feeling the thing beneath try and tug him back down he thrashed and pulled himself up, blind determination mixed with fear being the sole helpers that got Henry finally on dry land. Coughing and sputtering he fought the urge to simply lay there and catch his breath, hands wiping madly at his face to let him see at last. Yanking himself forwards he crawled onto the catwalk proper and staggered to get himself moving quickly..

Whatever had hid itself beneath the inky surface was less than pleased at the loss of its plaything, voicing it’s displeasure a deep rumble bubbled up from the depths as Henry spied a massive hand breach and try to make a grab for him. A startled cry was all he could manage before scrambling to dodge the oncoming hand reaching for him and the flimsy catwalk. The ink below had now began surging into angry frothing mess, Henry felt like he was running over a turbulent sea wanting to claim its newest victim once and for all. The door was so close now, he just had to run the last dozen feet or so and he’d be safe.

The ink had other ideas as another hand rose up to block Henry’s path to freedom, the way back only led down into the choppy sludge..Frozen to the spot he could only hope things would work out in his favor. Both arms trapping Henry tensed for a moment, before the ink below gave a slow and steady shudder as something..rose. Henry felt his heart skip a beat as the gigantic figure hoisted itself out of the ink to stare down at him. The shape was…vaguely humanoid at best..no facial features could be seen but he could tell without a doubt he was being watched carefully nonetheless..There was no way he could fight it, something that size could easily just turn him into a red and black smear on the wall..He was rooted to the spot hoping whatever this thing was wouldn’t simply just kill him. The more he stared the more he felt himself grow unnerved..

It took him roughly ten seconds to see why he felt like bolting. The massive form before him was..writhing. Countless forms twisted and turned over and over again, catching the faint light against their slick inky skin. Henry didn’t want to consider how they were keeping this form, or god forbid something stronger was behind the wheel here. Somehow both ideas made his stomach bottom out, he needed to leave and now but would he be able to was the most pressing question. It had him pinned between two massive hands, whatever this was now had control of the situation and his life at the same time.

And apparently it decided it wanted Henry something fierce, he expected the hands to make a grab for him..not for the entire thing to come rushing at him like some runaway truck and knock him clear off the catwalk. He let out a strangled scream as it swept him off his feet, the brunt force of it tearing the air from his lungs seconds before he was dragged under with the thing. Knocked for a loop he couldn’t close his mouth as the ink consumed him, and in turn he the ink. A horrible taste flooded his senses, making him spasm in the need to heave the longer he was exposed to it. A sickly metal taste coated his mouth, old acrid ink didn’t smell or taste this bad..Being a animator he had accidentally tasted the stuff more than once during those countless night crunches to meet deadlines..He weakly recognized the taste of blood as his back slammed into something hard.

Several things were happening all at once for the poor man, he had been dragged under a veritable sea of ink by some hellish sentient mass to probably drown. He had unfortunately learned just what might be mixed with this ink to make it so animated, the knowledge that his mouth and skin were soaked throught with a hellish cocktail of blood and ink made him sick to his core. Was this what Joey was doing for all those years? He didn’t want to picture who’s blood was used, thankfully his thoughts were interrupted by the harsh squeeze to his torso. He could definitely feel a hand now as it slowly tried to crush him, making Henry thrash weakly in its grip as he tried to get free. How he kept a grip on the axe this entire time was a mystery. The need for air was roaring in his lungs by now, he didn’t want to die down here as nothing more than some demons tiny plaything..But it seemed his luck was already out in that regard, he could only hope he blacked out before the end came.

The roaring in his ears had steadily began to quiet down as he gave in, or was it thanks to hearing something whisper in his ears? Was it the thing holding him captive or god forbid the entire vat of ink was playing with his mind. He couldn’t make sense of it, not that he was in the best state anymore, it sounded high pitched and warped..Was he finally losing it in his last moments of life? Henry would never find out as the world faded away at last, giving him some sort of peace before his eventual demise.

——

Henry came to some time later with a agonized wheeze, chest rattling painfully as it took in air once more. How was he alive? Why was he alive still even? By all damned accounts he should be dead at the bottom of that ink tank..Everything hurt and ached as he became more aware of himself and his surroundings. He was sticky with half dried ink, and on solid ground..He still had his axe locked in a death grip, letting it go for now he felt a hard cramp set into his arm..

With some effort he raised his head to look around…he was still in the ink room, but beside the damn door he had nearly gotten killed to reach. Why was he here? By all rights that massive thing should of killed him, he had to force himself not to look a gifted horse in the mouth. He still had his life and safety..that was all that mattered for right now, right? He didn’t want to look back at the ink behind him..in case that giant thing decided it wasn’t done with him and wanted to finish the job.

Weakly raising a arm to try and turn the knob and escape he paused to stare at his hand…He had to be seeing things, right? It could be swollen from gripping the axe so tightly for too long..it certainly didn’t look like a glove..It was just his imagination and nothing more. Heaving himself up he staggered onwards into the next hallway, he was just tired..At least that was the lie he was telling himself for now. How he’d deal with what was surely happening he had no idea..But he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.


End file.
